The Lucky One
by Emily5510
Summary: She has a horrible life. He has an amazing life. She's hated by her family. He's loved by everyone. She was saved by him. He calls her 'The Lucky One'


Dear Diary,  
I'm officially broken. There have been so many days where I have been kicked down to the cold and hard ground. I can't take it anymore. I need to escape to somewhere where all of your dreams come true. Somewhere that your loved by everyone. That somewhere is Heaven.

~ Marzia Today is my birthday. I need to escape. Escape to that place. The place where everyone loves you, for being you. No hate at all. No fighting anywhere. I need to go there. My biggest birthday wish? To escape this painful world and go to Heaven.  
I decided to pack everything I had in my dark, eerie room. From my journal to my small pieces of lead for my pencils. From glass figurines to things I didn't need. I opened the window and and was about to escape from my torture, but then I heard the locks on my door starting to unlock. She's awake earlier than usual. I wonder why.  
My eyes widened as more of the locks were starting to unlock. I put back as much useless things into place as I could. I tried to make it look as like I never packed anything up.  
I heard the final lock click, indicating that the door was finally unlocked. I heard Mother push open the heavy metal door. I heard the door creak a bit as she was opening it.  
As Mother walked down the stairs, I put the thing I had in my hand back into place.  
"Perch diavolo la finestra aperta?" (Why the hell is the window open?) My mother asked, groggily.  
"I-Io volevo un po 'di fresco a-aria" (I-I wanted some fresh a-air) I stuttered, scared that she wouldn't believe my lie. She gave me a simple nod, telling me that she believed me, but at the same time, I thought she was lying. She gave me my list of chores, which surprisingly was short. With only 4 things to do today.  
1. Dishes 2. Laundry 3. Clean the house 4. Cook I decided to do the laundry first so I could get the hitting over with because I'm really bad at folding things that have the word 'bed' in them.  
After folding everything and only getting hit by mother twice, I put everything away and next I decided to dishes.  
As I was washing the dishes, Mother came in.  
"Ehi, ho appena capito una cosa, cagna" (Hey, I just realised something, bitch)  
"C-Che?" (W-What?) I stuttered.  
"Mi sono appena ricordato che il tuo novantesimo compleanno, ti ricordi quello che ti ho detto il culo troia quando morto tuo padre?"  
("I just remembered that it's your ninetieth birthday, do you remember what I told your slutty ass when your father died?") She said, in an irritated tone. "S-S , signora, h-hai detto che mi avresti c-calci sul mio n-novantesimo compleanno" ("Y-Yes ma'am, y-you said you'd k-kick me out on my n-ninetieth birthday.") I stuttered.  
"Quindi uscire!" ("So get out!") She screamed. I tried to tell her that I had to finish the chores but before I could she yelled at me.  
"VATTENE, ADESSO!" ("GET OUT, RIGHT NOW!") She yelled at the top of her lungs.  
I snook into the basement once I knew she was in her room. I grabbed everything that I needed for my escape. At last, I could escape. I put everything in my backpack, which I also secretly had.  
I went outside and this time I didn't have the disgusting smell of drugs in my hands. I was running away. To freedom. As I was standing in the fresh, cool autumn air. I realised something. I could run away. For good. I kept walking down the road aimlessly. I found an alley. I walked in the dark, eerie, and vast place and sat down on the ground.  
If I want to be dead, I have to do this right. Cut myself deeply in the wrist. Luckily, there was a sharp piece of metal next to me and I picked it up. This was the first time I would ever not only be killing myself, but cutting as well. I heard it relieves stress and you feel better and once you cut your skin, it becomes an addiction and you can't stop. Ever.  
I started to cry as I brought the metal close to my skin. I was about to end my horrible life when suddenly some man with dirty blonde hair and piercing and mesmerizing blue eyes walked by. That's when he saw me.  
"Why are you in an alleyway?" He asked, his voice concerned and sounding very Swedish.  
"I need to do this, for the people who have laid eyes on me, looking at my ugly self." I said, for the first time, not stuttering since father passed away 5 years ago.  
"Don't do that," He said, stopping me from what I was doing.  
"Why should I stop? Nobody likes me and nobody would save me.I'm an ugly and broken mess." I said, getting fairly annoyed by him.  
"Come with me." He said. He held out his hand, indicating that he wanted me to grab it. Which is better? Killing myself or getting saved? But looks can be deceiving also. For all I know, he could be a psychopath and wanted somebody to lure to his death trap. I decided to take his hand because then it would be another way to getting myself killed.  
"Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, I'm Marzia." I said.  
"I'm Felix, otherwise known as PewDiePie." He said. 


End file.
